


Fire of Unknown Origin

by darlingkelly



Series: The Family Business [1]
Category: So Weird (TV), Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:05:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingkelly/pseuds/darlingkelly
Summary: With So Weird never getting the ending it deserved, I've convinced myself that in many ways, Supernatural could be a distorted continuation of its story line. Hopefully someone else may also appreciate a plot arc. Original stories to follow.





	Fire of Unknown Origin

OCTOBER 31, 2007—

Fi always hated Halloween. In younger years, she hated it for discrediting her beliefs. These days, she hated it for reminding her of who she once was. She pushed aside a veil of orange and black streamers, frowning at the crowd of costumed coeds that blocked her path. Her go-to bar was atypically congested due to the holiday, and she really needed a drink. She had spent the past week stressing over her law school application exam, convincing herself she had flunked right up until the moment grades were posted that afternoon. She’d aced it, of course. Fi was an excellent student.

 Fi leaned up against the bar and held up two fingers. The bartender nodded and slid a couple glasses her way.

“Should’ve worn a costume,” he told her. “Ladies drink free if they’re dressed up.”

“Who’s to say this isn’t a costume?” she replied with a grin. She was going to make a great lawyer. Aunt Rachel would be proud.

Fi made her way to her usual table. Even with the crowd, she loved this bar. She loved her school. She loved her tiny apartment. She loved her life. And she especially loved her boyfriend, Jesse.

Fi set the glasses down and wrapped her arms around Jesse’s waist.

“There’s my little Grinch,” Jesse teased, pulling Fi in close and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “How you holding up, babe?”

“I’m doing okay. I mean, it’s Halloween. Not my favorite holiday to celebrate.” Or think about. Because monsters and ghouls were a thing of her past, and she wouldn’t dare invite them back into her life in any capacity. Not even in the form of paper lanterns and candy.

It had taken a lot of sacrifice to attain this perfectly normal life. Her family. Her passion – investigating the paranormal – which she had once considered her life’s purpose. Fi left it all behind in her hometown of Hope Springs, Colorado, when she moved away to Seattle, Washington. She had spent her remaining high school years with her Aunt Melinda and two rambunctious cousins. Fi kept a deliberate distance from her aunt and cousins, just as she had done with her immediate family back in Colorado, always fearing she would put them in danger simply by being in their lives.

This solitary behavior had one silver lining. Fi found refuge in the walls of libraries, focusing entirely on her studies. Her impressive academic performance earned her a full ride to Stanford University in California, and things only improved from there. She met Jesse. They moved into a quiet off-campus apartment soon after. An engagement was imminent. She had a paved road to a fulfilling career as a lawyer, pending her upcoming interview with the graduate school scheduled for Monday. In short, Fi’s life was average, which she found more exciting than the alternative, because in this life, when she pictured the future, she was alive.

“Well then,” Jesse said, breaking her thoughts, “let’s celebrate something else… like, your awesome LSAT victory.”

“C’mon. It’s not that big a deal…”

“Fi, you act so humble but you scored a 174!” Jesse took Fi’s hand and added, “Seriously, I’m proud of you. And you’re going to knock ‘em dead on Monday. I know it.”

“I sure hope so,” Fi replied unenthusiastically. Her nerves often got the best of her these days, a side-effect of consciously ignoring her intuition. She had to actively fight the feeling that this practical life she’d created was not her own. Even as she was setting the appointment for Monday’s interview, she was overcome with an inexplicable sense of dread.

It was during these moments of panic that Fi wished she could reach out to her brother Jack for reassurance. Jack was always the logical one. She sometimes heard his voice in her head when trying to talk herself off a ledge.

“Relax, it’s just pre-interview jitters,” he would have told her. “Every person who stood before that board has felt exactly what you’re feeling.” But Fi couldn’t bring herself to speak to Jack, not for real anyways. She had cut ties with him upon learning, to her astonishment, her once-rational big brother had taken up her abandoned hobby.

“Okay, how about this?” Jesse proposed. “We finish our one, non-festive drink and continue this celebration at home. Sound good?”

“Home sounds great.” Fi lifted her glass to Jesse’s, asking, “Can we try this again?”

“Yes. To the most beautiful woman in the world and her incredible future ahead. May your career make us very, very rich.”

“Here, here.”

The couple knocked back their drinks. Jesse held his empty glass and eyed Fi in admiration.

“What’s that look for?” Fi asked, a blush appearing on her cheeks.

“Just wondering how I got so lucky. What would I do without you?”

Fi leaned in for a kiss and replied with a coquettish grin, “Hmm… Crash and burn.”

 

Later that night, as Fi laid peacefully in bed beside Jesse, she couldn’t help but feel relieved as she watched the clock reach midnight. She had survived another Halloween without a scintilla of her past rearing its ugly head.

She synced her breathing with Jesse’s, drifting slowly to sleep, when she suddenly heard movement coming from the living room. Her eyes snapped open. She reached for the baseball bat she kept under the bed, careful not to stir Jesse on the off-chance the source of the noise was non-human. She refused to let her old life bleed into this one.

Fi quietly got out of bed and pressed herself against the wall of the hallway. Her grip on the bat tightened when she spotted a shadow in the living room. She had mastered a steady swing years ago, and for what she lacked in height, she made up for in strength. She had recently wrapped up her third round of self-defense classes, and though she hadn’t welcomed this moment, she was ready for it.  
She let the silhouette move past her in the dark and sprung. She took a swing, but the figure caught the bat in his hands. Fi lunged at the intruder, her adrenaline pumping, but froze as soon as the moonlight exposed his face.

“Whoa! Easy, tiger,” he said with a smirk.

“Jack?” Fi asked, perplexed. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Nice to see you too, sis,” he grinned.

As he stepped forward, Fi noticed the familiar protection amulet around Jack’s neck – an angel, his guardian. Everything else was less familiar. Even in the dim light, Fi could tell he looked older than how she remembered him. She was surprised to see stubble on his face. When she left Colorado he could hardly grow a beard. His hair was cut close to his head, and his eyes appeared tired, framed with early signs of crow’s feet. Even his voice had aged.

“Jack, what the hell are you doing here?” she finally asked.

“Well, I was looking for a beer…”

A lamp suddenly switched on in the room. The two shielded their eyes as they adjusted to the light.

“Fi?” Jesse called out drowsily.

“Jess, hey,” Fi answered, struggling to construct an explanation.

 

Jack glared at the tall blond man before turning to his sister.

“Jack, this is my boyfriend, Jesse,” she began, cheeks reddening upon realizing the reason behind Jack’s scowl. Jesse was still in his boxers.

“Wait, your brother Jack?” Jesse questioned, stunned.

Jack didn’t respond, still processing the discovery of a nearly naked man in his baby sister’s apartment.

As if he read Jack’s mind, Jesse flinched and said, “Let me go put something on.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jack dryly replied. “Anyway, I’ve got to borrow your girlfriend here. We need to talk about some private family business… But, you know, nice meeting you.”

“No,” Fi protested, disliking her brother’s tone. “Whatever you want to say, you can say in front of him.” She walked over to Jesse and pulled him close for effect.

“Okay…” Jack cleared his throat. “Mom hasn’t been home in a few days.”

“She’s a musician with steady gigs. I’m sure she’ll stumble back in sooner or later.”

Jack smiled, and though he was bothered by his sister’s jab at their mother’s battle with the bottle, he knew he could disarm her with a few simple words. “Mom’s on a hunting trip, and she hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Just as he predicted, Fi’s expression fell.

 

“Jess, excuse us,” she whispered, becoming increasingly aware of what her brother was suggesting.

Hunting. That’s what Jack and others like him called what they did. Fi always preferred the terms “researching” or “investigating”, because “hunting” implied killing, and Fi wasn’t a killer. And neither was Jack, to the best of her knowledge. But then again, she didn’t really know him anymore.

 

Fi’s mind raced as she followed her brother to his car. He still drove the same vintage winter-blue Mustang he had when she left.

“Jack, what are you telling me?” she demanded. Jack carefully scanned the parking lot and let Fi in the passenger side. She continued to ramble as he made his way to the driver’s seat, “I mean, what could have possibly motivated Mom to suddenly believe everything, let alone hunt?”

“Hey, give me a chance to explain, will ya? Fi… After you left, things were… different. A lot different.”

“Jack. How could you get Mom wrapped up in this?”

“I couldn’t do it on my own,” Jack said with an uneasy grin.

“Sure you could.”

“Yeah,” he replied, starting the car’s engine, “but I didn’t want to.”

Fi analyzed her brother. Ever since their father died, Jack had taken it upon himself to be the family’s protector, even when he was just a kid. Jack chalked it up to being a big brother, but he had risked his life for her on more than one occasion, going far beyond the expectant duties of any older sibling. Maybe this was the reason for his newfound devotion to the paranormal. Fi had tried to deflect a destiny that was bound to happen. Jack was doing the only thing he could do to protect her. But her mother? Fi still couldn’t figure out what could have driven Molly to finally give in.

“I don’t get it,” she let out. “I spent years trying to get Mom to believe that what I was experiencing was real.”

“Are you sure you were the one trying to convince her?”

“You were there. What do you think?”

“All I’m saying is, maybe she was the one trying to convince you.”

Fi blinked in response, dumbfounded at her brother’s proposition.

“She confessed something to me a few years back, after you left,” Jack continued. He spoke with a hint of resentment in his voice. “She uh, she started to come undone a little bit, started drinking again. She broke down, told me everything…”

Fi winced. She knew that it was her sudden departure that had stirred her mother’s old vices. She had been aware of the risk she was taking by leaving, but she needed to escape so badly. Her obsession with the paranormal was not just a hobby, but a hazard. She had been warned that she was putting her family at risk, and Fi wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if something happened to her mother or Jack. They had lost enough. So she vanished, and her relationship with her mother disintegrated.

“Think about it, Fi. What would you have been more likely to believe, some campfire stories your mother told you, or something you experienced yourself?” Before Fi could answer, Jack added, “I know firsthand; it’s the latter.”

“You’re saying Mom lied.”

“She didn’t lie. She was protecting us.”

“From what?” Fi asked, knowing the answer.

“She knew what’s out there. That’s why she kept us on the road. She was hunting the whole time you were, looking out for us. It’s a miracle anything got to you at all. She took every precaution, but you pushed back so hard, some things got through.”

Fi couldn’t believe her suspicions were finally confirmed. The selective secrets Molly had let slip throughout her childhood were too carefully revealed. Her mother had to have known what she was protecting her from.

“Ever since Dad died,” Jack went on, “she’s been trying to find what killed him.”

“I knew there was more to that accident. Is that what she was hunting when she disappeared? The thing that killed Dad?”

“No. Mom wanted to check out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho. About a month ago, this guy went completely MIA. They found his car but there was no trace of him.”

“Maybe he was kidnapped?” Fi suggested.

“Yeah, well, there was another one in April, December ’06, ’05, ’04, ’99, ’82, ten of them over the past twenty-five years… All men, all on the same five-mile stretch of road. It started happening more and more, so Mom went to go dig around. I was heading back from New Orleans when she called. That was about three weeks ago. No one we know has heard from her since, which is bad enough, and then I get this voicemail yesterday.” Jack took out his cell phone and hit play.

“Jack, something is starting to happen,” Fi heard her mother’s voice say, though the audio was choppy and distorted. “I think it’s serious. I need to try to figure out what’s –going on– Be very careful, Jack. We’re all in danger.”

“Sounds like there’s EVP on that,” Fi observed.

“Not bad, Fiona. Kind of like riding a bike, isn’t it?” Jack said proudly. “So, I ran the message back without the hiss and heard this.”

An eerie whisper came from the speaker, “I can never go home.”

“Never go home?” Fi repeated, gears spinning.

 

Jack eyed her, confident he’d successfully piqued her interest.

“All right. I’ll go,” Fi said. “I’ll help you find her. But I have to get back first thing Monday. I have an interview – a law school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate.”

Jack smiled and pushed down on the gas pedal.

 

It was sunup when the siblings reached Jericho, California; a small rural community reminiscent of the ones they visited while on tour with their mother. Even though Hope Springs was home, it seemed like they’d been raised a little bit everywhere – perhaps why this place felt somehow familiar to Fi.

Minor details from her past resurfaced with the confirmation of Molly’s true mission, like how often their tour bus would mysteriously break down or end up off-course. Fi thought of Ned and how many repairs he must have performed on the stupid bus for nothing – unless he was in on the plan. Irene, too. Fi hadn’t considered the Bells’ involvement. Just as she was about to inquire further, Jack pulled the Mustang to the side of the road. She could see the old bridge up ahead was barricaded. The area was buzzing with police.

Fi raised an eyebrow as Jack unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Check it out,” he said, pulling a shabby cigar box from under his seat. He opened it up and handed it over to Fi. “I made these on the off-chance you tagged along.” He nodded toward a set of laminated ID badges.

“FBI? You’ve got to be kidding me,” Fi thought aloud.

Jack cracked a smile and got out of the car. Fi nervously followed her brother’s lead.

 

As they approached, Fi observed two uniformed officers searching a wrecked sedan that had crashed into the side of the bridge. She heard one say, “No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints… It’s almost too clean.”

“Sheriff, this kid Troy… He was dating your daughter, wasn’t he?” the other responded. “How’s Amy doing?”

“She’s putting up Missing posters downtown.”

To Fi’s dismay, Jack interjected, “You had another like this just last month, didn’t you?”

“Who are you?” the sheriff quickly replied. Fi did her best to mask her nerves.

“Federal Marshals,” Jack answered confidently, giving a flash of his badge. Fi mimed his actions.

“You two are a little young for Marshals, aren’t you?”

“Thanks. That’s awfully kind of you,” Jack said. “You did have another one just like this, correct?”

“That’s right,” the other officer confirmed. “A mile up the road. There have been others before that.”

Fi mustered the courage to speak up, intrigued. “So, this victim, you knew him?”

“Town like this,” the sheriff replied, “everybody knows everybody.”

“Any connection between the victims, besides that they’re all men?” she asked.

“No, not so far as we can tell. Honestly, we could be dealing with a serial killer, maybe a kidnapping ring,” the sheriff suggested as the other officer nodded in agreement.

Jack looked unamused. “Well,” he said under his breath, “this is exactly the kind of crack police work I’d expect out of you guys.”

Fi shot her brother a look before his big mouth could give them away. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen,” she stammered, pulling Jack away.

“Since when did you get jumpy?” he spat as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Since when do you talk to police like that?”

“C’mon!” Jack sighed. “They don’t really know what’s going on. We’re all alone on this. I mean, if we’re going to find Mom, we’ve got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves.”  
Before Fi could answer, a voice called out from behind them, “Can I help you two?” A third officer stood with her hands on her hips.

“No, ma’am,” Jack replied without turning around. “We were just leaving.”

 

Jack and Fi drove immediately to the town’s main road in search of the victim’s girlfriend and sheriff’s daughter, Amy.

“I bet you that’s her,” Jack said, pointing to a young woman walking with a stack of flyers in her arms. The pair approached her.

“Hey. You must be Amy,” Fi offered.

“Yeah,” the woman responded in a kind pitch incompatible with her gothic look.

“We’re Troy’s cousins… from up in Modesto,” Fi lazily fabricated. “We’re looking for him, too, and we’re kind of asking around…”

Jack cut in to save her, “Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?”

Amy shook her head and suggested they talk over coffee.

 

The woman wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug, rarely lifting her eyes from it as she spoke. Fi felt sorry for her.

“He was driving home,” Amy began. “He said he would call me right back, but he never did.”

“He didn’t say anything out of the ordinary?” Fi asked.

“No, nothing I can remember.”

Jack said in a gentle tone, “Here’s the deal, Amy. The way Troy disappeared… something’s not right. So, if you’ve heard anything…”

Amy shifted in her seat.

“What is it?” Jack probed.

“Well, with all these guys going missing,” she mumbled, “people talk.”

“What do they talk about?” Fi and Jack inadvertently replied in unison. They exchanged confused glances before returning their attention to Amy.

“It’s kind of a local legend,” she explained. “This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well, supposedly, she’s still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up… they disappear. Forever.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“It’s stupid, I know,” Amy added.

“Maybe not,” Fi offered, determination appearing on her face. Jack recognized her expression and suppressed a smirk. Without a word, he passed Fi his car keys.

“Thanks,” she said, not quite following. “Which one opens the-“

“The smaller one is for the trunk,” he answered.

Amy finished off her coffee and grabbed her stack of flyers. “Here, I’ll walk you out. I’ll let you guys know if I hear anything.”

 

Minutes later, Fi returned to the booth with her laptop in hand. “Guess I’m still as predictable as ever, huh?” she offered, as Jack reached out and spun the computer screen toward himself. “Hey!” she let out.

“You’ve been out of the game for too long, Fiona,” Jack teased.

Fi watched on in frustration as Jack repeatedly typed various keywords into the search bar related to local murders, each time yielding zero results. Unable to stand idly by any longer, she pushed her brother aside and took control of the keys.

“Angry spirits are born out of violent deaths, right?” she asked rhetorically. “Maybe it’s not a murder.” Fi ran a search for local suicides, immediately locating an article from 1981. “Constance Welch,” she read aloud, “twenty-four years old, jumped off of Sylvania Bridge, drowned in the river.” Fi spun the screen around to show Jack the accompanying photo. The bridge was the same one they had been on earlier that day.

“Does it say why she did it?”

“Yeah. An hour before police found her, she called 911. She told them her two little kids were in the bathtub. She left them alone for a minute and when she came back, they weren’t breathing. Both died. That’s so sad.”

Fi instinctively copied the article and pulled up the blog she never could force herself to delete. She frowned upon noticing her last login was just last week.

“What?” Jack said with a shrug. “It’s a useful site.”

“Well, thanks… But you could’ve made your own account.” 

 

Later that evening after police had left the scene, the siblings decided to return to Sylvania Bridge to search for clues.

“Don’t get me wrong here,” Fi called over to Jack as he analyzed some tire marks in the road. “I really want to help Amy, but… What’s all this have to do with Mom? All the missing persons are men. She doesn’t exactly fit the pattern.”

“Well, Mom’s chasing the same story and we’re chasing her.” Jack straightened out and walked toward Fi, leaning cross-armed against the Mustang.

“Okay, so now what?” she asked impatiently.

“We keep digging ‘til we find her,” Jack answered. “It might take a while.”

“Jack, I told you. I have to be back by-”

“Monday,” he cut in, nodding. “Right. The interview. Yeah, I forgot.”

Fi let a beat pass. She could tell Jack wanted her to stay, but there was no way she was missing that interview.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” Jack blurted out. “You really think you’re just going to become some lawyer? Marry your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, why not?” Fi shot back.

“Does Jesse know the truth about you? I mean, does he know about the things you’ve seen? What you’ve done?” he asked in a harsher tone than Fi was used to.

“No,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “And he’s never going to know.”

“Well, that’s healthy,” Jack responded sarcastically. “You can pretend all you want, Fiona, but sooner or later, you’re going to have to face who you really are. I sure as hell did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she spat. She spun Jack around by his coat sleeve as he attempted to walk away. “This is not going to be my life,” she insisted.

Jack sighed, “You have a responsibility.”

“To who? To Mom? What difference does it make? Even if she does find the thing that killed Dad,” Fi paused and took a breath, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with her brother as she finished her statement, “he’s gone, and he isn’t coming back.”

Fi became nervous with the sudden darkness in Jack’s glare.

“I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth,” he said behind gritted teeth, clutching the pendant on his necklace in restraint so tightly that it left impressions in his fingers. “For years, I heard you talk about how Dad wasn’t really gone; how he was still here, watching over us. I had to pretend you were crazy, like I couldn’t feel him here the whole time!”

“You wouldn’t have had to pretend if you had just taken my side from the start!”

“Shut up, Fiona. You listen to me. I embraced all this – all the weird, supernatural crap – for him, for Mom, to save you. And now you’re going to change your tune? I don’t think so!” he shouted, quickly turning to escape to regain his composure. But before Jack could take a step, he was stopped cold by the apparition standing mere yards from him; the ghost of Constance Welch, the woman who had taken her life on that very bridge decades earlier.

“Fi,” he said sternly.

Fi joined his side, astonished by the spirit. She hadn’t seen one in so long, she’d almost forgotten how human they looked. Fi felt a chill run through her as the ghost turned and locked eyes with her. Fi grabbed her brother’s arm.

Suddenly, the white shape before them dove over the edge of the bridge.

“No!” Fi screamed as she and Jack ran to where the ghost once stood.

“Where did she go?” Jack questioned.

“I don’t know,” Fi answered, but was interrupted by the stir of the Mustang’s loud engine. The siblings turned to find the car’s headlights illuminated.

“What the…?” Jack let out.

“Jack… Who’s driving your car?”

Jack responded by pulling his keys from his jacket pocket and dangling them. Just then, the engine growled as the car raced forward toward Jack and Fi. Stunned by the ghost’s sophistication, they struggled to get their bodies to cooperate. They each yanked the other’s arm and broke into a run, pumping their legs toward the end of the bridge.

The car was catching up to them. They came to the grim realization that they wouldn’t make it to the end of the bridge in time. They needed to jump. Fi exchanged a frightened glance with Jack before swinging over the edge, Jack doing the same.

The Mustang came to a screeching halt.

Fi hoisted herself up from the ledge of the bridge. She frantically scanned the area for her brother. To her relief, she finally spotted him crawling out from the murky water below. “Jack!” she yelled down to him. “Are you alright?”

“Super,” he joked between breaths. 

 

Fi rushed to help Jack to his feet, but Jack was more concerned about his car. He quickly made his way to the Mustang to check for damage.

“Car all right?” Fi asked.

“Yeah. Whatever she did to it, it seems all right now,” Jack said with a sigh. He leaned against the hood of the car, adding, “What the hell was her problem?”

“Well, she clearly doesn’t want us digging around. That’s for sure.”

Jack let out another frustrated sigh. He had become quite attached to the old Mustang in recent years, once he no longer had to share ownership with his friends. Keeping the thing running had served as a welcomed distraction after Fi left for Seattle and the chaos that followed at home.

“You know, it’s weird,” Fi thought aloud. “Why would Constance show herself if she didn’t want our help? With the ghosts I’ve encountered in the past, that was kind of the whole point.”

“This one’s different,” Jack offered. “She didn’t die in some freak accident. She’s vengeful, remember?”

Fi digested Jack’s words. “So, these are the kinds of cases Mom’s used to? The bad ones?”

“Yeah. Compared to Mom’s horror stories, your old cases were Disney.”

 

The pair hopped in the Mustang and circled back to the center of town in search of a place to spend the night. To their surprise, the local motel already had a room booked under the same false moniker printed on Jack’s credit card. Knowing it had to be their mother, the siblings broke into the room. To their disappointment, they found it abandoned. Molly seemed to have left in a hurry – some of her belongings were scattered about the room, including a collection of newspaper clippings that she had tacked to one of the walls.

Jack switched on a light, exposing protective salt rings on the floor, cat’s eye shells on the dresser and spoiled food on the nightstand. “I don’t think she’s been here for a couple days, at least,” Jack determined.

Fi absorbed the room’s contents in disbelief. She ran her fingers through the salt lines on the carpet. “Salt? Cat’s eye shells? She was worried, trying to keep something from coming in.”

Jack approached the collage of newspaper clippings, all pertaining to men that had gone missing on the same highway Constance Welch was said to haunt. Mixed in with the clippings was a photocopy of lore on the Woman in White.

“Woman in White?” Jack read aloud. He tore the page from the wall and began skimming its contents.

“Mom figured it out,” Fi said. “It’s Constance.”

“If Mom was right, why didn’t she burn the body?”

Fi stiffened. Despite her familiarity with the lore, she hadn’t realized the extent of what Jack and Molly did as hunters until she heard those words come out of Jack’s mouth so casually. She secretly wondered what else he had been forced to do in the line of duty, but wouldn’t dare ask. Instead she suggested, “We can go talk to the husband, see if we can find out where she’s buried?”

“All right. I’m going to get cleaned up. See if you can find an address.”

“Hey, Jack… What I said earlier about Dad, and for pushing you into all this, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Jack stopped her before she could continue. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Jack woke up with the sun. He had been on his own for a few months before crashing Fi’s collegiate experience at Stanford, but fell easily back into his role of big brother. He decided to let Fi sleep in a little longer while he ran out to grab their breakfast.

As he made his way toward the Mustang, he saw one of the officers from the bridge in an exchange with the motel manager, now pointing in Jack’s direction. Jack hid his face with his jacket collar and quickened his steps, intentionally blowing past his car. He experienced a sense of déjà vu as the officer yelled something in his direction.

Jack discreetly called Fi as the officer approached. “Fi, 5-0. Take off.”

“What about you?” Fi asked with panic in her voice.

“Uh, they kind of spotted me. Spare keys are in my bag. They’ll be watching the front door so climb out the bathroom window.”

“Can’t I meet you at the police station?” Fi asked. “I am pre-law, after all. I can help.”

“Nah, don’t risk it. I’ve been read my Miranda rights so many times, I know them better than Zeppelin’s-”

Before Jack could say another word, he was pushed against the hood of a nearby truck, sending his cell crashing to the pavement as the police officer applied handcuffs to his wrists. He suppressed a smile. Given his line of work, he found police interrogations rather amusing. 

 

This interrogation did not disappoint. Jack had been sent directly to the sheriff, and each accusation was more ridiculously thought up than the last. Jack couldn’t keep the cocky smirk off his face. He’d long since grown out of being a by-the-book boy scout.

“Fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards… I’m not sure you realize just how much trouble you’re in here. You’ve got the faces of ten missing persons on your wall, along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo jumbo. Boy, you are officially a suspect in the disappearance of these men.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Jack said in a sarcastic tone, “because when the first one went missing in ’82, I hadn’t even been born yet.”

“I know you’ve got partners. One of them is an older gal. Maybe she started the whole thing.”

Jack’s smirk quickly vanished.

“So… tell me, Jack,” the sheriff continued, glaring at him, “is this hers?” He threw a distressed book on the table in front of him. Jack instantly recognized it to be his mother’s lyric book. He recalled her constantly scribbling in it on the road. Jack took a deep breath. He knew his mother wouldn’t have willingly left her book behind.

The sheriff turned to a dog-eared page with Jack’s name scrolled across it. “I thought that might be your name,” he went on. “See, I leafed through this, what little I could make out. I mean, it is nine kinds of crazy. But I found this, too.”

Underneath Jack’s name, the handwriting read:

_Pretty mama gonna make everything all right. –C.O._

“Now,” the sheriff said sharply, “you’re staying right here ‘til you tell me exactly what the hell that means.”

 

In the meantime, Fi had managed to escape the motel undetected. She drove the Mustang to the address she had found online under the name Joseph Welch, Constance’s widower. She took on the only guise she was comfortable using without Jack present, a reporter with the local paper. For effect, she’d thrown her chestnut hair into a bun at the top of her head and placed a pen behind her ear.  
She rang the doorbell of the small ranch home and waited, unsure of what to expect. A rough-looking man swung open the front door. His overall appearance, particularly his scowl, reminded her of her old friend Max. For a brief moment, a small part of her hoped that maybe, a harmless wormhole could be to blame for the vanished men instead of Constance.

“Hi there, sir. Are you Joseph Welch?”

The man nodded in response.

Fi removed a photo of her mother from her pocket and held it up. “Do you recognize this woman?”

“Yup, she came by three or four days ago. Said she was a reporter.”

“That’s right,” she said, masking her enthusiasm. “We’re working on a story together.”

“Well, I don’t know what the hell kind of story you’re working on. The questions she asked me…”

“About your late wife, Constance?” Fi asked carefully.

“She… she asked me where she was buried.”

Fi felt her stomach drop. “And, where is that again?”

“What, I’ve got to go through this twice?” the man questioned, becoming visibly agitated.

Fi softened her tone. “It’s fact checking, if you don’t mind.”

Mr. Welch seemed reluctant to disclose any more information. He studied Fi before finally replying, “In a plot, behind my old place over on Breckenridge.”

“Why did you move?”

“I’m not going to live in the house where my children died.”

Fi felt sympathy for him but remained on task. “Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?”

“No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I’d ever known.”

“So, you had a happy marriage?” she asked with a gentle smile.

Mr. Welch hesitated before responding, “Definitely.”

“Well,” Fi sighed, “that should do it. Thanks for your time.” She slid her notepad into her jacket pocket and turned to leave. An odd feeling stopped her, pushing her to ask the man one last question,

“Mr. Welch? Have you ever heard of a Woman in White?”

“A what?”

“A Woman in White,” Fi repeated. “Or sometimes, a Weeping Woman?”

The man didn’t speak, finding her odd.

“It’s a ghost story. Well, it’s more of a phenomenon, really,” she continued. “Um, they’re spirits. They’ve been sighted for hundreds of years in dozens of places, all different women who all share the same story.”

“Girl, I don’t care much for nonsense,” the man muttered, turning to walk away.

Fi followed him, unable to stop, years of curbed knowledge spewing from her lips all at once. “See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. These women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children…”

The man glared at her.

Fi continued with slight hesitation, “Then, once they’d realized what they’d done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking backroads, waterways, and if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.”

“You think… you think that has something to do with Constance, you smart ass?” the man replied, on the verge of tears.

“You tell me,” Fi answered bravely.

“I, maybe- Maybe I made some mistakes,” Mr. Welch said shakily, “but no matter what I did, Constance would’ve never killed her own children. Now you get the hell out of here, and you don’t come back!”

 

Back at the police station, Jack impatiently chewed at his lip. He was left alone in the interrogation room when a call came in over the sheriff’s radio announcing shots fired. The sheriff cuffed Jack to the table and charged out in a hurry.

The police station cleared out within minutes. Jack skillfully removed a paperclip from his mother’s lyric book and undid his handcuffs. He snatched up any visible belongings including the book, and made a fast exit. Ducking around the building, Jack took off down the nearest alleyway, narrowly avoiding the path of a speeding police car. He ducked down until he was sure he hadn’t been spotted, then ran like hell.

Jack put about a mile between himself and the station before slowing his pace to a walk. He wiped away the sweat from his forehead and patted his pockets for his phone. He suddenly recalled the image of his shattered cell on the motel parking lot pavement and groaned. Luckily, he found just enough loose change in his jacket for a single call.

 

“Fake 911 phone call, Fiona? I don’t know, that’s pretty illegal,” Jack laughed into the payphone.

“You’re welcome,” Fi said into her cell, keeping her eyes on the road. She knew Jack would never forgive her if she crashed his precious Mustang.

“Listen, we’ve got to talk.”

“Tell me about it. The husband was unfaithful, which means we are dealing with a Woman in White. And she’s buried behind her old house on Breckenridge Lane, so that would’ve been Mom’s next stop.”

“Fi, would you shut up for a second? She’s gone. Mom left Jericho.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I have her notebook. Turns out she used it for more than just lyrics.”

“She doesn’t go anywhere without that thing. Or at least, she never used to.”

“Well, she did this time.”

“What’s in it?” Fi asked, concerned.

“Everything. Notes on monsters, spells, weapons – and get this – a message for me. Lyrics from Black Water, the Doobie Brothers song. I’m guessing it has something to do with where she’s headed but I haven’t cracked the code yet.”

“Jack, what the hell is going on?” Fi responded, perplexed. Before Jack could answer, something appeared in the road in front of the Mustang. Fi gasped and cut the wheel, sending her cell phone to the floor mat. The Mustang swerved once to each side before she regained control of the wheel, and drove right through Constance Welch.

“Fi? Fi!” Jack shouted into the phone, hearing the skidding of tires.

Fi slammed on the brakes, trying to catch her breath.

 

“Take me home,” a haunting voice commanded from the backseat. Fi jumped at the sight of her unexpected passenger. “Take me home!” the ghost repeated.

Fi watched on in terror as the car doors sealed shut. She desperately pulled on the lock mechanism as the car started to drive on its own. She put a hard shoulder into the driver’s side door but it barely budged. She finally stopped struggling, in part due to exhaustion, but also upon remembering that this wasn’t the first time the Mustang had been taken over. She decided to try doing exactly what she’d instructed Jack to do in the past, and let the car drive.

Within minutes, the Mustang rolled off the road and into a dirt driveway. The car came to a stop in front of a boarded-up house and shut off.

“You don’t have to do this,” Fi calmly begged. “I can help you.”

The Woman in White ignored her, staring up at the house. “I can never go home,” she said, her voice heavy with sadness.

Fi’s mind ticked as the spirit’s words repeated in her head. “You’re scared to go home?” Fi spun around in her seat to face Constance Welch, but the ghost had disappeared. She took a deep breath and absorbed her surroundings, when suddenly Constance reappeared, violently digging her hand into Fi’s chest.

“I thought you only go after men!” Fi seethed. “And I’ve never been unfaithful!”

Fi’s pleas went unacknowledged as the spirit proceeded to claw at her. Fi winced, helpless under the ghost’s unnatural strength, as Constance moved in closer. Fi reached for the Mustang’s key, but she was pinned just out of reach. Constance leaned backward, revealing her hideous true form. Her decayed hand still clawed at Fi’s chest.

Fi let out a pained cry, just as shots shattered the driver’s side window. Fi was stunned to find Jack feet away, lowering a handgun. Constance Welch dissipated, and Fi wasted no time. She swiftly sat up in her seat and turned the key in the ignition.

“I’m taking you home,” Fi said with a sideways grin, and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The Mustang revved forward, leaving Jack speechless in a cloud of stirred dust.

“Fi!” Jack called out as the car crashed through the front entry. He sprinted into the house through a mess of debris, keeping his gun drawn as he ran toward Fi. “Fiona? You okay in there?”

“Yeah,” she responded, stuck behind the wheel. “Help me?”

Jack assisted Fi as she climbed out through the broken window. They froze in place at the sight before them – Constance Welch, ready to continue her attack.

Before either had a chance to move, the ghost sent a thick chest of drawers into them, pinning the siblings against the wall. They struggled against its weight, momentarily defenseless against the malevolent spirit.

Constance came closer, ready to send Jack and Fi away like the others, when her focus was broken by water suddenly pouring down the nearby staircase. The ghost turned her attention upward. Jack and Fi watched on in confusion. From behind the dresser, they could see two child-sized shadows cast onto the opposite wall. The Woman in White’s mouth opened in awe, a fearful expression washing over her face. The shadows clasped hands and moved impossibly fast down the staircase to meet Constance. No longer just shadows, the figures took on a hauntingly human appearance, with looks of resentment too mature for their young faces. The apparitions consumed Constance, invoking from her an animalistic scream.

The siblings watched in disbelief as all three spirits turned to water and seeped into the floorboards. The pressure of the chest of drawers instantly lessened. They overturned the heavy chest to free themselves and analyzed the puddle on the floor.

“So, this is where she drowned her kids,” Jack said.

“That’s why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot. Nice job, Fi.”

“Wish I could say the same for you,” she teased. “What were you thinking, shooting at a ghost like that? You could’ve killed me.”

“They’re salt rounds. They would’ve hurt like hell but you’d have been fine. Besides, it saved your ass,” Jack sneered.

“Your help is long overdue, big brother.”

“What are you talking about?” Jack mumbled, busy inspecting his car for damage.

“Have you forgotten about our very first ghost adventure back in Chicago? Similar deal – the flying furniture, the waterworks, the family reunion. I solved that one all on my own. And all you did was make fun of me.”

“The way I remember it, you fell through a rotted attic floor and I caught you before you broke both legs. Also, that ghost wasn’t after us.”

“Yeah,” Fi admitted, “but he sunk my first laptop.”

“You should be less worried about that old brick and more concerned about my baby here,” Jack replied, running a hand along the side of the Mustang. “If you screwed up my car, I’ll haunt you myself.”

“Haunt this,” Fi responded with a sarcastic grin and middle finger. 

 

With the case solved and the Mustang intact, Jack and Fi got back on the road.

“Black Water, C-O. Colorado,” Fi said, holding up her phone to illuminate the hastily scrawled note. “I bet Mom was trying to tell you she’s heading to Black Water Ridge. It’s only about an hour’s drive from Hope Springs. She must be going home.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t she just tell me that herself?”

Fi shrugged. “At least we know she’s safe.”

“All right. Home’s about 600 miles from here. We can make that by morning.”

Fi looked up from the book. “Jack,” she started, searching for the right words.

Jack’s expression turned to disappointment. “You’re not coming,” he said for her.

“The interview’s in, like, ten hours… I’ve got to be there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever,” Jack sighed. “I’ll take you back.”

 

Fi exited the Mustang and collected her bag from the backseat. “Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?” she offered.

“Yeah, all right,” Jack replied, his jaw stiff.

Fi gave the car a tap and waved goodbye before walking toward her apartment.

Jack paused for a moment, then called out behind her, “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.”

“Yeah,” was all Fi could answer. She’d waited a lifetime to hear those words from Jack, but she couldn’t surrender her hard-earned normalcy so easily. She watched him drive off, wrestling with her decision to stay at Stanford before assuring herself she was making the right choice.

 

“Jess? You home?” Fi said softly. She quietly dropped her apartment key into a bowl by the door and hurried to her bedroom. She frowned when she found the bed empty. Fi suddenly realized she hadn’t touched base with Jesse since the early hours of Saturday. She hoped he wasn’t upset with her.

Fi laid down in their shared bed and put her arm over his usual spot. She smiled inwardly, proud to have escaped her old life for a second time, as she sent her boyfriend a quick text message. To her surprise, his text tone rang out from inside the room.

Fi sat up. She had her thumb on the dial key when something warm hit her forehead. She reached up to wipe it away, and felt sick when she saw red on her fingertips. She hesitantly raised her eyes up to its source – Jesse, pinned to the ceiling, wide-eyed and silently gasping for air as blood spread across his torso.

“No!” she cried out. Her lungs began to fail her when, impossibly, fire emerged from the ceiling behind him, engulfing his body in a matter of seconds. Fi held her gaze as long as possible. “Jess!” she yelled.

As the flames masked her boyfriend’s face, she had a sudden vision: She was three, standing up in her gated bed, the heat on her face. Her mother’s voice, frantic, bounced off of her nursery’s walls.

Molly scooped her up in her arms and passed her to Jack, who was hardly old enough to hold her.

“Take your sister outside as fast as you can!” Molly told him. “Now, Jack! Go!”

Young Jack rushed her away as Molly stood in the glow of the flames, wailing.

Fi was pulled back to reality when her apartment door burst inward.

“Fi!” she heard a voice call from the living room.

“Jess!” Fi screamed again, unable to look away from him.

“Fi!” Jack bellowed as he ran into the bedroom, taking a moment to follow Fi’s eyes before yanking her arm and pulling her off the bed.

“No! No!” she protested, fighting against him to stay in the bedroom. “Jesse!”

The smoke was getting thicker. Fi slipped out of Jack’s grip for a split second before he regained hold of her. Fi kept her eyes locked on her boyfriend for as long as she could, crying out for him as Jack dragged her out of the apartment. A ball of fire shot out after them.

 

The flashing lights of fire trucks bounced off of buildings and onlookers’ faces. Jack took a place in the crowd, watching the steam rise up into the sky, before turning back toward his sister. Fi was pulling something from the Mustang’s trunk. Alarmed, Jack rejoined her side. She was holding one of his knives, her eyes dark and determined.

Jack looked her over, unsure of what he could possibly say to comfort her. The old Jack would have told her this was all a coincidence, but this Jack knew the truth. They would be targeted like this until their destinies were fulfilled.

He put a protective arm around Fi’s shoulder and pulled her close. Fi exhaled and handed over the knife, which Jack accepted and threw back into the trunk.

“What do you expect me to do with that?” he asked.

Fi stared blankly ahead. “C’mon,” she finally said, her voice devoid of emotion. “We’ve got work to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bringing this story originally posted on FF(dot)net to Ao3 -- It's been reworked since it's FF days, so if you've already read it on there, I'd recommend this updated version! Reviews always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Enjoy.


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